


Mother

by AnotherAnon0



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Gaping, Brain Damage, Breast Milk Drinking, Breastfeeding, Breeding, Captivity, Childbirth, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehumanization, Dildos, Drug-Induced Sex, Dubious Science, Emotional Manipulation, Extremely Fucked Up, Forced Orgasm, Fucked Stupid, Gangbang, Gratuitous Smut, Horniness, M/M, Male Lactation, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Childbirth Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Psychological Trauma, Public Humiliation, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Oral Sex, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Slut Shaming, Stomach Bulge, Tyrant Breeding, unrealistic science do not read too closely into it lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28268907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0
Summary: Tricked by Sergei Vladimir, Nicholai Zinoviev accidentally signs into a B.O.W breeding program.Albert Wesker begins to take advantage of the young mercenary's precarious predicament.[I swear if you don't heed those TAGS you are in for a horrible time!]
Relationships: Nicholai Ginovaef | Nikolai Zinoviev/Albert Wesker, Nicholai Ginovaef | Nikolai Zinoviev/Ivan | Tyrant T-103 Variation, Nicholai Ginovaef | Nikolai Zinoviev/Multiple, Nicholai Ginovaef | Nikolai Zinoviev/Tyrant (Resident Evil)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 104





	1. Ripeness

When Sergei had offered him a job, Nicholai had assumed it would be the usual.

Gunslinging, implosions, explosions, assassinations, data collection, suspect neutralisation -- he'd done it all for the older man, and for Umbrella. And wandering into the threshold of Sergei's executive-level office, he hadn't even given a moment's thought to that it might be something out of the ordinary.

He hadn't even looked at the contract before he signed it, casually scribbling his signature down onto the offered papers clipped neatly to a clipboard like he always did while in casual conversation with his long-time mentor. 

Oh, how _stupid_ he had been.

He had pleaded with Sergei when he was being hauled away by an entourage of armed guards, begging the man in Russian, demanding to know why he betrayed him. Sergei had simply shaken his head, and promised he would come to visit him soon. 

\--

Sergei had been sympathetic towards Nicholai's fear, confusion, anxiety, anger -- but the older man's loyalty to the corporation far exceeded any pangs of regret he had about surrendering his beloved junior to the laboratory. 

Still, he requested they not cause any irreversible damage, if they could. They promised to try.

Nicholai didn't understand how important his contribution would be to the future of Umbrella. He tried to convince him, stroking his hair and hushing him soothingly during visits to his new _room_ \-- a locked cell in the deepest recesses of the lab he'd personally demanded be made less prison-like in anticipation of Nicholai's arrival.

They'd painted the walls baby blue, and given him extra-thick pillows. They'd even hung some cute pictures of baby animals, and left some books. Sergei reminded himself to bring more. Perhaps a little radio, too. 

He personally administered the hormone injections every morning, telling the clinicians it would be more relaxing for Nicholai if he did it than if some anonymous, white-coated fiend. 

Nicholai still sobbed and begged the whole time.

\--

Nicholai spent most of his initial days curled on the cot in pain. 

Since the first round of injections, everything hurt. His stomach made noises it never had before, and his tongue tasted acidic. He wanted to sob, but that hurt, too, so he simply lay, hidden under his blanket, desperate to wake up from what he had tried to convince himself was a horrific dream.

Eventually, the noises began to be accompanied by pangs of sharp, sharp pain. He wondered if the injections were causing side-effects. If he was dying. He wondered why he didn't mind that thought. 

On the second week he was taken for an ultrasound, locked in a wheelchair the entire time. Sergei accompanied him, nodding happily when the clinician told them his pseudo-womb was growing healthily. She assured him the pain was normal.

She used the word _ripe_ when she described him. Ripe. Like a fruit growing on a vine, ready to be plucked.

_"He should be ripe in about one more week."_

Nicholai knew ripeness was proximal to being devoured. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this! Yet another draft being cleared from my folder! 
> 
> This is going to get increasingly more.... wrong.... with new chapters. Please continue to heed the tags in anticipation.


	2. Breeding Day

Sergei administered another medical cocktail on breeding day.

He had personally ordered its formulation by the top virologists -- wanting Nicholai to have _something_ to make the process easier. He wouldn't have cared had it been anyone else, and neither would they have. But Nicholai was special, and he wanted to ease his still-somewhat guilty conscience. 

He also ensured his boy had ample lubrication. While Nicholai was clearly embarrassed, flushed a beet red the entire time he was being methodically _doused_ in the thick, slippery jelly, he knew he was going to need it. 

When the tyrant was brought in, Sergei sighed in reverence.

The creature was magnificent -- one of the newest T-103 humanoid models. Strong and tall, intelligent and ruthless. For its virile bounty of successful, viable progeny, the lab had taken to lovingly calling it _Adam._

\--

Nicholai didn't understand why there had to be so many _damn_ people in the room.

Sure, he realised the tyrant needed supervision and he needed protection -- but the medical table he was locked and lain on was flanked on both sides by dozens of staffers, all standing in the shadows among the walls. 

He felt humiliated in his nakedness. So unbearably humiliated in the way his hole had been coated in lubricant and spread by a speculum. But it became even worse when he realised the injection Sergei had given him was one that was intended to make him aroused.

A beet-red flush came over his face when his erection swelled with blood, a tingle of heat beginning to spark in his hips. But while he thought that was the extent of its purpose, like a quick fix of viagra, he was sorely mistaken. 

Slowly, he felt a haze beginning to engulf his mind. It snaked around his spinal cord, latching onto every nerve and braincell. At first, it was jut that -- a haze. A bit lusty. A bit stupid. A bit needy. 

And then the haze became a thick, thick fog, and the spark in his hips became a roiling bonfire filling him with black smoke that threatened to choke him alive. A sheen of sweat painted itself over his body in response to the impossible heat swelling from his pores.

"O--fuh--fuck..." 

\--

Sergei wasn't afraid of Adam. He knew the creature would respect his own viral pheromones and pay him no heed. So he stood closer to the table than the others, peering down at Nicholai with amused curiosity as the younger man was thrown into the abyss of absolute, unbridled, primal need.

He grinned when _Adam_ took a clear interest in the tiny body he was brought to, dipping down to sniff at Nicholai's sweat-glassy flesh curiously. 

"Be good to him, comrade." Sergei said softly. 

_Adam_ trailed its hands along Nicholai's body, squeezing and poking at it. It sniffed various little spots, interested in the handsome, fertile smells the offering was releasing. It grunted in satisfaction as mews and moans escaped the offering with every rough touch. 

Sergei beamed as he watched the Tyrant move its massive cock towards the hole that was open and waiting for it, folding his hands behind his back neatly.

He felt like a proud uncle.

\--

Nicholai's mind was a jungle of bright-white nothingness. 

Every muscle in his body felt like it was trembling. He quaked and quivered, jerked and thrashed against his restraints. He was braying moans through jagged breaths -- his body feeling as though it were simultaneously ice cold and burning hot. He'd never felt such a cacophony of sensations.

He recognised rapidly his brain wasn't doing what it was supposed to do. The thoughts of protest and fear were shrinking away, getting quieter and quieter. Somehow, he felt unable to even remember what his brain was _meant_ to do. Slowly, a drumbeat began playing in his head -- tribalistic, raising in volume, increasing in speed. 

He didn't just want to be fucked -- he _needed_ it. 

He wasn't just aroused -- he was _desperate_. 

Nicholai's eyes shot open to look up at the Tyrant looming over him. It was all he could see. Everything around it was black, gone. Like there was a cosmic spotlight on the creature and only the creature. 

And his mouth began to water like he'd never seen something so delectable in his life. 

\--

The _Adam_ Tyrant seemed amused by its mate's thrashing and loudness, it had stopped its alignment to watch and assess, naturally curious about the tiny thing beneath it and what it was doing. It didn't have the ability to understand, but it was becoming more aroused as it watched.

With a huff, the Tyrant decided it was time to breed its mate. It was displeased with the strange, cold, metal thing that was in the offering's entrance, and it ripped it out unceremoniously. It prompted a scream from the offering, one which tickled the tyrant's arousal further. It wanted its mate to scream like that again. 

The Tyrant was satisfied when it began to enter its mate, more and more noises coming from it that _Adam_ liked. The offering was also tight -- very tight. And it became tighter the deeper it stuffed.

For a moment, the creature wondered if the body it needed to breed was trying to reject it, or stop it from fully sheathing as it wanted to.

It became upset at this primitive thought. 

\--

Sergei's eyebrows cocked up when the Tyrant growled loudly, as though frustrated. 

The older man noticed the penetration had slowed to a halt, with nearly a quarter of the creature's incredible length still outside of Nicholai's body. 

Nicholai wasn't a virgin, he knew that from personal experience. But Adam's cock was tremendous, far larger than any human's, and it was clearly struggling and frustrated with the inability to sheath the remainder.

Sergei lowered a hand to stroke at Nicholai's belly in soft, soothing circles. The younger man had long since gone silent, drool spewing from his trembling lips and leaking down his cheeks onto the table. His muscles jerked tiny trembles, but otherwise he was lost inside himself completely. 

"This might get a bit rough, _moya malysh,_ but I am here. I promise it will be o--"

He was unable to finish his soothe when the Tyrant suddenly thrusted forward with all of its power, forcing its way in the final inches. 

\--

Nicholai's eyes shot open, back bucking up off the table.

He knew pure garbage was spewing from his lips. Nothing intelligible. Nothing fully formed. Just primal sounds and _pings_ of dumb thoughts his brain had the audacity to try and think.

Whatever was in the drugs he'd been given accentuated the penetration in the most perverse of ways. He was _certain_ he could feel every vein on the shaft and how they throbbed. He was _positive_ he could feel the way the meaty head forced his body to contour around it. He absolutely knew he could feel the way the cock was prodding at his abdominal wall, carelessly dismissing his very human organs and anatomy in search of its own pleasure.

And he _loved_ it. 

His bio-engineered rapist began to thrust firmly, deeply, as though it were punishing him for the earlier delay in accepting its length. 

Nicholai could feel claw-like hands grabbing at his hips, squeezing them with a bruising tightness as it began to use his insides. 

\--

 _Adam_ grunted and growled as it fucked the tiny body, snarling teeth bared dominantly. 

It could feel that its mate was beginning to loosen inside, muscles relaxing around it as it continued to thrust harder and harder. The Tyrant was pleased with the submission. It desired more, so it began to thrust harder. Its primitive mind was telling it to claim the offering fully, splay it open, carve out a space inside that would never obstruct its entry again. 

The offering was meant to bare its seed, it had no other purpose. 

It enjoyed watching the bulge in its mate's belly rise and fall with every thrust, and forced itself deeper and harder to see it more clearly.

Every slam of its hips against its mate's prompted one of those loud screams it liked to hear.

\--

Sergei was in awe of Nicholai's reaction to the breeding. He'd never seen the younger man so thoroughly gone. 

Even in their own intense, euphoric lovemaking sessions, Nicholai had always managed to retain a sliver of self control and dignity. He was there, in the moment, enjoying himself. But not now. Now, his eyes were rolled back, mouth gaped in a twitching, delirious smile, tongue lulling from his lips to lick at nothing. 

Every rough thrust was met with a scream of pure joy, a hiccup of superlative happiness. Sergei could hear the squelching of Nicholai's guts being rearranged, and he had watched forced load after load pour from his untouched cock, pooling in his hipbones. 

A part of him was almost worried. What if the breeding cocktail the lab had synthesised were _too_ strong? What if it had damaged Nicholai's brain in some fundamental way?

He was pulled from his pang of concern as the tyrant began to bellow and roar, orgasm drawing near.

\--

Nicholai gasped and yelped jaggedly as he was filled. 

He felt hot inside, so, so hot. Hotter then he had felt already, something he didn't even know was possible. 

He could feel his insides gargling from the pressure of the Godly volume of tyrant ejaculate, the stream pouring into him like someone had switched a hose on and let it flow. 

As the cum seeped through his innards, slipping into and filling every available nook and cranny in his exhausted body, he felt a peculiar calmness come over him. 

The fog that had captured his mind was thinning somewhat, the heat subsiding. He could sense the room again, able to see more than just the Tyrant still sheathed inside of him. 

He sighed contently, eyes fluttering shut as he adjusted to the sensations still sparkling within him.

But the calmness was short-lived. As his mate began to withdraw, it was rapidly replaced by _panic_. 

' _No_...' His mind screamed, suddenly horrified at the prospect of emptiness. 

He needed more. 


	3. Neediness

Sergei wasn't happy. 

Though the breeding had been a success, and Nicholai had been confirmed as producing pregnancy hormones through a blood-test, the younger man hadn't come down from his injection-induced high since breeding day.

It had nearly been two weeks.

The laboratory technicians assured him the drugs simply needed to cycle through his blood. That the hormones his body was producing was slowing down the process of elimination. That it would all be okay.

But walking towards the younger man's cell and hearing his bellowing cries of need echo down the halls, ones that hadn't abated in days, it was hard to believe them.

\--

Nicholai didn't understand why he wasn't being fucked. 

He would have been fine being strapped down if he were just being _fucked_. 

When Sergei entered his "room," he was almost excited, hoping the older man was there to administer the dose of cum his brain was telling him he so desperately needed. But the older man simply loomed over his bed, arms crossed, a concerned look on his face. 

"S-Seryozha... P-plea-ase!" Nicholai mewed anxiously, wiggling and jerking against the thin mattress, "W-wh-why won't a-anyone f-fuck me?!"

Sergei didn't respond, sighing loudly as he continued to desperately pleaded.

Nicholai felt tears pricking at his eyes for the dozenth time that day, continuously denied. His body was physically reeling from the lack of contact, and something in his mind was telling him that if he could just be fucked, it would all be okay.

It felt like torture.

\--

The guards were infinitely entertained by the _host_ in Cell 14.

They'd never seen one quite like him, one that was screaming for more after being bred. Normally, the hosts would recoil in pain, shrink into a corner of the room, and stay there until the birth. 

This one was different. He had to be strapped down for his desperation, and his loud cries for orgasmic release would echo throughout the entire laboratory for hours until he tuckered himself out. Information about the drugs he'd been given began to rapidly spread through the security offices.

They were supplemented with the usual rumours -- squeaks that it had been intentional, that Umbrella had been trying to create a tyrant sex slave, that some beleaguered virologist had purposely fucked up the formula to spite the Vladimir-loyalist factions that were growing in the company. 

It didn't really matter. 

Sometimes, during rounds, the guards would stand at the threshold of the cell, giggling themselves giddy as the man inside would cry and beg for them to enter and use him, naked body glistening with sweat. They knew they weren't supposed to, however. 

\--

As Nicholai's belly grew, so did his neediness.

It got to the point that bruises and sores were forming on his wrists and ankles from the persistent thrashing. Nicholai hadn't even been able to eat, and was instead injected with a once-a-day nutritional supplement.

Sergei demanded the scientists do something to intervene, but none had any solutions that didn't include drugs which could potentially interfere with the gestating Tyrant foetus inside of Nicholai's pseudo-womb. It was all too risky. 

One of the scientists tepidly suggested he be masturbated, that perhaps an attempt to satisfy the urge was better than allowing his stress levels to increase as those, too, could harm the foetus. 

Sergei sighed as he considered the option, his only fear being that it simply wouldn't be enough, and would cause more desire rather than less. 

Reluctantly, he agreed, ordering a routine masturbation of Nicholai by stoic clinicians on a daily basis, with regular reassessments. 

\--

"It's Christmas, dude, I need to get home, come on! My wife is going to kill me!" The orderly whined, hands clasped in pleading. 

"We're really not supposed to, man..." One of the guards mewed innocently in response.

"You just gotta jack him off, it's so easy he squirts in like 5 minutes! Come on!" 

"Yeah but..."

"No one will find out, I swear!" The orderly promised, waving as he darted towards the changing rooms, "I'll owe you one!"

The two guards looked at each other, smiles beginning to pull at their cheeks in unison. They tried to control their excitement as they hopped out of their chairs, slipping down the hall towards Cell 14.

Nicholai immediately responded to the sound of his cell being opened, head darting up off the pillow. The two guards who liked to mock him where entering, both looking quite smug. 

"Orderly got busy, lil' guy." One of the guards peeped, leaning down and patting Nicholai's head condescendingly, "He left you alone with us two's tonight."

"You deserve a little Christmas gift, I think!" The other piped in, licking his lips.

\--

The cocks were smaller than he'd wanted, but he couldn't complain. Finally -- _finally_ he was getting fucked.

The two were rough with him, using his leaking hole and pleading mouth in rotations, switching their positions every few minutes. They said it was because his mouth was better than his ass -- tighter and more responsive. 

"He's already so loose!" The one between his legs grunted with a laugh before planting a few light slaps on the round belly before him, "Popping this thing out is going to be a breeze!"

The guard fucking his mouth smirked, "I heard them talkin', if he survives they're just going to knock him up again right after."

He slipped his cock out and held it just out of reach, laughing perversely when Nicholai craned his neck to try and slurp it into his mouth again. After a few seconds of teasing, he reached down and squeezed the younger man's cheeks, a gurgle of cum and drool bubbling from Nicholai's lips as he did, "You are going to be wrecked at the end of this, pal, you have no idea what's coming."

"He's already wrecked!" The other chimed in with a laugh, deciding to pull himself out as well. Nicholai immediately bucked, screeching at the sudden emptiness.

"P-please! Pl-ease! M-more!!"

The two guards spent the night alternating between using the desperate man and denying him their cocks, forcing him to beg and plead for the _privilege_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally a draft in the UBCS Kink Short compilation, but it spawned a much larger story so I just made it a stand-alone! 
> 
> Things will be getting worse for Nicholai, trust me.


	4. Night Shift

When the guards approached the laboratory, the orderlies and clinicians were less ambivalent than they knew they should have been -- shrugging their shoulders and waving their hands dismissively when the guards advised that they could take over the nighttime Cell 14 duty. 

It was easier, the guards had insisted. And the lab workers agreed -- it was much better than having to trudge down to the lowest level, walk the endless halls, and deal with what had effectively become a thorn in the side of every scientist in the complex.

Sergei's constant complaining about the _unfortunate_ side effects the breeding cocktail had left Nicholai with had started to churn resentment amongst some of the virologists who believed it was the Colonel's fault. After all, they wouldn't have even created the _damn_ injection if it weren't for him and his concerns. Water cooler bitching had left many of them demanding to know why they should take the blame for Nicholai's state.

One less shift to deal with Nicholai was one less shift they had to give a shit about Sergei's concerns, they all decided, letting the guards take control of the evening shifts.

Silently, they all knew what the guards were _really_ doing. They just didn't mind.

\--

Even though only two guards were ever on shift in the cell hall during the night, almost a dozen of them had taken to showing up for the nightly duties in Cell 14.

Some just wanted to see the sight and prod at Nicholai's body, poking his engorged belly and playing with his leaking nipples curiously. Others wanted to fuck him, fist him, humiliate and dominate him. 

Nicholai was simultaneously disgusting and irresistible. His belly wasn't terribly large, but it was an unnatural sight on such a strong man, and, as they came to learn, it was very, very sensitive. A few rough strokes and squeezes of the mound could easily prompt an orgasm.

It led the guards to arrange a game one night where they unchained him only to hold his arms behind his back and see who could force the most orgasms from him just by rubbing his belly like a dog.

They'd tell him to pose for photos, demanding he splay his legs and spread open his needy hole so they could snap pictures on their phones.

\--

Nicholai didn't care what they did to him, he just needed sex.

He had no shame, no fear, no pain or concern.

He'd giddily bark like a dog, hang out his tongue, and crawl on all fours for the reward of a cock shoved in his throat. He'd milk his own tits and use the cream as lubricant to jack off for their photos so long as they promised to fuck him after. He'd happily put on a show for them, trying to fit as much as of his own fist in his slackening as he could, or stuffing himself with whatever object they gave him, no matter how awkward. Whatever they asked, it would always end the same way: with begging.

"P-please, Sir! I need your cock!" He'd mew, clutching onto the fabric of the nearest man's pants and burying his face in his crotch. 

They always seemed to like it when he called them 'Sir'. He'd call them whatever they wanted -- Master, King, God. It didn't matter, he barely understood the words that came out of his mouth half the time, and rarely compelled them of voluntarily with any degree of thought.

Like his need to fuck, it was all a jumble of random biological impulses now, and the only thing his vocal cords ever did were beckon for more cock, more abuse, more cum. 

\--

"The cow is extra greedy tonight, inne'?" One of the guards laughed, laying back and watching Nicholai bounce on his cock roughly. He reached up to flick at one of the man's nipples, chuckling when even that small bit of touching prompted a yelp of ecstasy, "I think you've been fucked by every guard on roll tonight, twice over."

Nicholai was grinding and twisting his hips as hard as he could, licking his lips and rubbing his hands across his belly lustily. He was practically crosseyed, a steady trickle of drool leaking from the corner of his mouth.

"Bet you wish you were knocked up with our babies, don't cha', cow?"

"Mmmhmm..." Nicholai nodded lazily, "Ye--"

Suddenly, a pang of something different wormed its way up through Nicholai's brainstem. It caused him to stop mid-grind, eyes widening and brow furrowing in an instant. 

The guard beneath him sputtered when he stopped, cocking his lip in frustration.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He barked, "Get back to it!"

Nicholai peeped a gasp. His grip on his belly became tighter, and he instinctually peered down at it. 

"O... oh... S-someth-- _ahh_..."

"Dude..." A guard that had been resting in the corner of the room suddenly spoke up, rising to his feet slowly, "I think he's... I think he's..."

"Shit."


	5. Birthday

It was odd, at first. 

The thick, white haze in his mind that had plagued him since his initial injection with the breeding hormones had suddenly, rapidly dissipated. He knew he had been riding one of the guards at the time, and it was as though a pang of consciousness broke through the lusty fever dream he had been embroiled in. 

Then, as he was being hastily abandoned, there was pain. He had squeaked and hissed, cramps and sharp shocks of something awful ripping through him. He was confused and scared. He didn't know what was happening, even if he should have.

But as the team of clinicians piled into his cell, the pain dissipated as well. And suddenly the glaring white haze of ecstasy returned with a vengeance, burning brighter and angrier than it had before. It felt as powerful as it had the first time he was taken by the Tyrant, if not more.

He grunted and moaned loudly as he was prodded and poked by utilitarian touches, unable to contain expressing the pleasure that was bellowing through him. It was as though every stimuli had been amplified in volume, and he could feel everything on a cellular level. The way the latex-gloved fingers dipped into his flesh, the way the bodies passing around him caused wisps of cool air to fan onto his hot skin, the way the creature inside of him jerked and squirmed and lashed out.

The moment he was uncuffed, the clinicians needing to adjust his position, his hand darted towards his cock, kneading it desperately. There was a cacophony of shock, amusement and surprise that erupted from the people around him, ones who had assumed his primal groans had been of pain and not pleasure. 

"He's really fucked, isn't he?" 

\--

Sergei strode down the hall quickly, barely laced boots clamouring against the cement floor as he descended deeper and deeper into the holding cells beneath the laboratory. 

The call that Nicholai had gone into labour had come at nearly 2:30 a.m, and Sergei had been silently relieved. Previous meetings with the virology team had conceived theories that after the birth, Nicholai's hormones would readjust. That perhaps the injection had resulted in a perfect storm of unnatural bio-neurological impulses that had been extended by the gestational foetus and its own alterations of its host. 

But slipping through the crowd of scientists to stand beside Nicholai's bed, all of that hope cracked and crumbled to nothingness. Two were holding the younger man's wrists down, while two more had a firm grip on each one of his ankles. They quickly explained their reasoning, and Sergei rolled his eyes in upset. 

"O-Oh, Ser-Seryozha...!" Nicholai had mewed at him when he arrived, cheeks flushed a bright red, eyes distant and glassy as ever. There was a pool of cum smeared across his lower belly.

Sergei sighed loudly, his guilt returning in full swing. He barely acknowledged the task of the scientists at the end of the bed, fussing between Nicholai's legs over monitoring the delivery.

He reached down to stroke at his junior's clammy cheekbone in soothe, but his offered fingers were immediately stolen by Nicholai's lips, the younger man craning his neck to slurp up the digits into his mouth. He suckled at them contently, rolling his tongue around them and moaning sweetly like a common whore. He didn't pull away, letting Nicholai use them like a pacifier, wondering if it helped at all.

"This wasn't meant to happen, _Kolya_ , I'm sorry."

\--

Albert Wesker stood at the farthest corner of the cell, arms crossed, a smile squeaking past his best attempts to suppress it. 

At the early board meetings, Sergei had been so smugly proud to offer up his best soldier to the B.O.W reproduction program, insisting Nicholai was young, healthy, strong, and intelligent. That his DNA would have been a perfect compliment to a Tyrant's. Now, standing over his perversely aroused junior, the older man looked utterly appalled at what the consequences of his decision had been. 

It was delicious to watch.

Albert knew Sergei wasn't a man to regret anything, especially when it came to his contributions to Umbrella, but now, his fingers being sucked and slurped at loudly by his beloved junior, he was unable to hide the fact he was broken by Nicholai's mental and physical deterioration. 

And it was just the beginning.

Albert was going to make sure of it. 

\--

Nicholai had only caught a glimpse of the creature before it was set in a mobile isolation tank and rolled away carefully, but he had no feelings about it in particular. It was striking -- black and blue flesh almost scale-like in texture, eyes a distinct shade of red. It was far from human, but still quite small and strangely baby-like. 

The only truly coherent thought Nicholai had when it was removed from him was how quickly he could conceive again. Even as clinicians were still between his legs, cleaning him, he had already missed the feeling of being pregnant. The moment Sergei withdrew his fingers, he asked in a tremendously degraded, cracked peep.

"A-another? Wh-when? P-lease?"

Sergei's lips were a straight line of discontent. Before he could even answer the question, an unfamiliar, rolling drone emerged from behind him.

"Just two weeks, Mr. Zinoviev!" 

"O-oh!"

Nicholai immediately noticed that Sergei didn't seem to want to be friendly to whoever it was that spoke, the older man snarling at the blond-haired man who appeared from the shadows to stand beside him.

"Colonel..." The blond asked softly, "Have you decided which prototype he is meant to gestate next? Shall we use the T-103 for insemination? Or perhaps a T-101?"

Sergei didn't answer.

The blond looked down at Nicholai, a smile stretching his lips widely as he spoke directly to him, very slowly as though he were a child, "The T-103s are a bit newer, but the T-101s have bigger cocks and fuck much, much harder!" He said, reaching down and rubbing Nicholai's belly softly.

"T-that!" Nicholai thrashed excitedly against the cuffs them hat had been reapplied to him after he finished giving birth, "T-that one!"

Nicholai liked this strange blond man, whoever he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas A03 friends! I hope you get everything you want and have a lovely day!


	6. The Blond Man

The blond man said his name was Albert. 

Nicholai liked Albert. 

The man said he was a virologist at Umbrella, and wanted to help make him more comfortable. 

He ordered away his chains during the evening, and let him masturbate as much as he wanted to. He brought him toys -- long, thick rubber cocks he said he could play with as much as he'd liked. He even helped him use them, something that made Nicholai extremely happy.

Albert was good at using the toys, pushing them into him deeply, roughly. Even as he stuffed his guts deeply with them, he'd ask if Nicholai wanted more, harder, longer. Nicholai would always say yes.

"Sergei really ought to be the one doing this..." Albert would say softly as he played with him, "It's such a shame how little he cares about you. Don't you think?"

"Ghnnn..." 

Sometimes Albert wanted to take pictures of him. He didn't mind -- so many had. He barely paid attention as he did.

The blond man was nice to him, after all. 

\--

Albert's memo circulated rapidly through the laboratory and guard's quarters. 

" ** _In light of new scientific evidence to guide the handling of our B.O.W program host, I am pleased to offer all members of Umbrella's staff access to Cell 14 on a temporary, experimental basis._**

**_This measure will provide both comfort for our host, and comfort for our members of staff._ **

**_Access to Cell 14 is 24 hours, from February 4 to February 16._ **

**_Dr. Wesker"_ **

It wasn't lost on anyone that those happened to be the dates Sergei Vladimir was in Russia on executive business for the company, 

The next Tyrant breeding had been slated to commence after his return, with one of his own T-103 Tyrants, Ivan, being chosen to preform the replication. 

\--

Nicholai thought he was in heaven. 

While Albert had been releasing him at night to stuff himself with his provided dildos, one morning he arrived and announced he'd have new playmates. That he wouldn't have to be chained down again. That he'd be fucked as much as he wanted.

"Aren't you happy?" The blond man asked sweetly, batting his eyelashes behind dark glasses

"Yes, Sir!" Nicholai nodded eagerly, perversely thankful for the privilege. 

From that day on, his cell never seemed to be empty. There was always a cock in both of his holes and hands. Sometimes, there would even be a cunt riding his own perpetual erection, the female staff sometimes finding it amusing to use him, too. He didn't mind, any and all contact with his body was pleasurable.

In Sergei's absence, he was sometimes brought out of his cell and put on display. He'd crawl between the desks and suck cock. He'd be bent over lab equipment and taken over and over.

He was often perceived, by cruel staff, as a nuisance. His constant moans and desperate pleas would echo through the lab, irritating some who would take out their frustrations by slapping or kicking him like he were a needy dog. But they quickly discovered the penalisation was useless -- Nicholai responding to the harsh contact much the same way he did with any other assaults on his body: with a joyous moan and plea for more.

\--

Sergei had wanted to wait longer than the slated two-week timeframe.

He was concerned about Nicholai's physical health, and ordered some blood tests and imaging scans to first confirm his condition. Once he was called away on business to Russia, two weeks rapidly turned to two months before he was able to allocate the time to personally review the results of the examinations and recommence the program. 

He had chosen on one of his two T-103 Tyrants for the breeding. Though the T-101s were far easier to mutate post-gestation, his beloved _Ivan_ was more responsive to his orders, and he knew he could control the creature easier due to its default programming to obey him. As a result, he decided he wouldn't even bother to bring Nicholai to the clinic, and instead took Ivan to his junior's cell to preform the task.

Nicholai was bound and squirming as usual, an excited grin erupting over his features when he saw the Tyrant strolling behind his mentor.

"How do you feel, _Kolya_?" Sergei asked sincerely, good eye flicking over the younger man's body. There were a few bruises along the pale skin he couldn't identify the origins of, but just assumed they was due to the younger man's constant squirming.

"O-oh, I am f-fine! Happy!" Nicholai mewed, craning his neck to nestle his nose in Sergei's nearby thigh awkwardly, "Am I -- going to?"

" _Da_." 

Nicholai almost squealed with giddiness. 

"There are only two more you have to bare under your contract, _Kolya_..." He spoke quietly, but firmly, "Two more and then they can do whatever they need to fix you."

Sergei sighed loudly, instructing his Tyrant to disrobe from the heavy limiter trench it adorned. 

\--

Nicholai felt his eyes roll, a giddy, delirious smile tugging at his twitching lips.

Ivan was working him beautifully. The Tyrant was far more intelligent and conditioned than most, having been personally hand-reared and trained by Sergei not to be a ruthless killer, but a devoted servant. It was able to jerk and roll its hips under instruction, thrusting slower and touching deeper than the first, primal beast had been able to. 

Though Nicholai loved the rough fucks he'd been afforded over the course of his time in the cell, he was practically drooling at the Ivan's far more passionate ministrations, ones that were a hollow simulacrum of _romantic_. He only wished his legs were free so that he could wrap them around the creature's waist and pull it closer. 

" _S-Seryozha_... I f-feel so...!" He peeped happily between gasps, tongue lulling from his lips involuntarily to lap at the corner of his mouth. He wanted to kiss the creature, no matter how ghastly it was. He wanted to slip his tongue between its pale lips and lick at its throat, but Sergei wouldn't let him. It was frustrating. 

"So?" Sergei cocked a brow in amusement. 

Despite the delicious moans continuously bubbling from his lips, Nicholai had begun to feel a churning in his gut that was distinct from the deep, firm thrusting that was driving him wild. A part of him, one of the few parts left still primitively conscious and aware, told him something felt odd, and it snuck out of him through broken thoughts.

"S-so m-much..." He groaned, caught between pleasure and this strange new feeling he was compelled to communicate, "I-in my belly..."

\--

Sergei, despite his clear discontent, was trying to be generous. He purred soft instructions at the Ivan on what to do, when, and how fast. The creature was responsive, listening to its Master carefully and following the orders being given.

Though he despised the state his junior was currently in, he was somewhat pleased to be administering the breeding as he was. With the three of them alone rather than in a sterilised room full of curious scientists, it was almost intimate. 

Every twitch and twist would prompt excited gaggles from Nicholai, who was looking up at the Tyrant with glazed eyes not just in lust, but as though he were utterly _lovestruck_ by it. The squelches and slaps of wet flesh on flesh were steadily growing louder and louder, almost perversely so. 

"Perhaps this was all for the best..." He mused aloud with a sigh, "I doubt you will remember anything at the end. And at least, _at least_ , you suffered no pa--"

Sergei's thought cut short as he noticed a smear of red begin to snake through the white fabric blanket beneath Nicholai's hips. He cocked his head in confusion at first, as though unsure of what he was seeing.

Slowly, he creeped around to the side of the bed to peer between Nicholai's legs. The Ivan's still-thrusting cock was covered in blood.

"Oh, God..."


	7. Happiness

"Miscarried **_what_**...?" 

Sergei's knuckles were white, claw-like fingers digging easily into the wood of the boardroom table like it were made of butter and not solid oak as they curled in fury.

"A-appears to have b-been a human foetus, maybe 10 weeks gesta--" The stammering scientist began to speak, a glistening sheen of sweat developing across his pale forehead.

" _ **HOW**_?!" Sergei interrupted with a bark, " ** _BELONGING TO WHO_**?!"

The scientist hiccupped, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head, desperate to communicate he did not know the answer.

"Oh, give me a break, Sergei..." Albert piped up with a drone of annoyance, fist propped on his chin, "This was bound to happen and you know it."

Sergei snarled at the blond, who was sitting across at the other end of the table with a smug expression on his face, "Oh? Do tell, _comrade_."

Albert scoffed a laugh, "He's not exactly the Virgin Mary, now is he? Ever since that lovely _injection_ you gave him, that is... He's been begging for cock from anyone who will give it to him. It was inevitable that _someone_ finally would."

The other executives and scientists sitting around the table seemed awe-struck by the hurricane of tension that was slowly building between the two men.

"Did you... Albert?" Sergei hissed, looking as though he were a Siberian tiger ready to lunge at his prey. 

"Of course not!" Albert snorted, "I like my partners a bit more _chaste_."

The jeer prompted suppressed giggles from some of the others, who immediately hid their amusement when Sergei's glare distributed itself around the table. 

\--

Oswell Spencer rolled his eyes as the two men began what was their routine pissing match. While it wouldn't have normally bothered him, so used to Sergei and Albert's constant shows of venom towards each other, he was beginning to get annoyed.

The B.O.W replication program was important. It had been difficult to find a human breeder capable of gestating a Tyrant to term without perishing. Sergei's choice had been excellent, Zinoviev's bloodwork and physicals having been within Umbrella's system already due to his service with U.B.C.S. They had been able to assess the man's viability before he even signed his contract. 

But now, Sergei was showing himself to be wavering in his comfort level with surrendering his junior to the quota. Unfortunate side-effects or not, the Colonel was faltering. 

"Boys, boys!" Oswell interrupted the loud back-and-forth that had picked up while he was in thought, waving a hand in annoyance, "Stop this."

The patriarch waited for the two to fall silence and cast their gaze on him before speaking again, taking a deep breath through his nose before he did.

"Colonel -- as much as I appreciate your sourcing of our breeder, and the success he has already provided and will continue to provide, you are not a scientist." Oswell said frankly, "I have already tried to assure you that we will attempt to rectify any... mental incapacitation... that your junior is experiencing **_once the program concludes_**."

Sergei dropped his head slightly folding his hands on the desk. 

"Dr. Wesker -- I want you to take over from here." 

\--

Nicholai felt happiest when he was being released of his milk.

Though his body wasn't intended to or needed to produce the fatty discharge needed to feed the creatures being planted in his gut, hormones from both the pseudo-womb creation and breeding cocktail had prompted a powerful response.

While the scientists initially disregarded the production, unconcerned for his soreness and the throbbing and swelling of his nipples, they had decided to begin pumping him on an experimental basis. They were curious about potentially feeding it to the birthed Tyrants, and whether they could engineer it in some way to be useful.

But Nicholai didn't care about their reasons. 

All that mattered was the firm, pulsating pressure that came with the little plastic cups a clinician had come and affixed to his nipples. 

They cups were small, just wide enough to fit around the base of his nipple, and had thin tubes leading from their tip that connected to a bottle.

The clinician had manually pumped the cups a few times, waiting for trickles of milk to drip forth and then letting the vacuum-like pressure it created do the rest. She'd then left him strapped down, being pumped gently, moaning and gyrating his hips into nothingness filthily.

If he opened his eyes for long enough, he could see his milk filling the tubes, being pulled down into the bottle laying on his belly. He would have much preferred two, harsh lips to be around his nipples, sucking him dry, but was thankful for anything at all. Since Sergei had returned, he hadn't been getting fucked as much as he had been, with only the guards occasionally slipping into his room at night for a quick, rough blowjob.

Footsteps drew his attention from the hypnotising drool of his milk from his nipples, and an excited squeal immediately peeped from his lips when he saw the blond man he liked so much slipping into his cell.

\--

Albert smirked at the happiness the Russian greeted his presence with. Like a giddy dog wagging its tail to a blur when its owner returned home.

"Good afternoon, Nicholai, how are you feeling today?" He asked sarcastically. Nicholai simply blathered happily between desperate, panting grunts.

Albert stood over the cot and assessed the sight, snorting a laugh when he saw the milk pumps affixed to the younger man's pink nipples. His eyes followed the long, thin tubes to the baby bottle-like container at the end.

"Oh dear, you are almost full." Albert said with faux-concern, "Perhaps we should take these off..."

"N-no! No! No, p-please!" Nicholai shook his head immediately, almost horrified at the suggestion the pumps be removed. 

"No?" Albert smiled, reaching down to stroke his fingers along the tender flesh around the cup's base, "You like being milked, hmm?"

Nicholai nodded, a loud moan escaping him as Albert continued to rub firmly at the sensitive, swollen glands around his areola. Albert switched between the nipples, entertained by how Nicholai's eyes softly rolled, and his lips quivered and parted happily at the touch.

"You're just like a little cow, aren't you?" Albert grinned, "We should put a big bell on your neck!"

Nicholai pouted when the hand left him. His eyes opened in offence, ready to cast a pleading glance up at the blond. But he quickly noticed Albert was fiddling with the bottle at the end of the tubes, twisting it free from its cap. Even the little jerks and twitches of the tubes as Albert twisted the bottle away were pleasurable. 

Albert brought the bottle to his lips, taking a deep, satisfying drink that sparked a raging fire in Nicholai's belly as he watched. He could feel his milk still leaking out of the tubes, but with no collection device, the warm stream simply dripped across his belly, snaking down his waist.

"You taste lovely." The blond smiled contently, licking his lips of the excess, "Delectable, even."

He took another sip, settling down to sit on a free patch of the cot. Nicholai stared at him lustily, bristling with pleasure when the fabric of the other man's clothes brushed his naked flesh casually. 

"I have some exciting news, little cow..." Albert said, sighing contently as the milk warmed his stomach.

"O-oh..?" Nicholai tried to respond, but couldn't stop himself from wiggling his body in an attempt to get more skin contact with the other man.

"Indeed." Albert smiled. Merciful, he dropped his free hand to rub at Nicholai's milk-covered belly in soothing circles, unconcerned with the mess the still-leaking tubes was causing. Nicholai moaned loudly, thrusting his hips up involuntarily at the sudden burst of pleasure the touch caused. 

Leaning down, Albert made sure he was close enough so that Nicholai could feel the heat of his breath as he spoke, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper.

"You're mine now."


	8. The Catalogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I noticed in a few places I accidentally called “Albert” - “Alfred.” LOL this was because I am working on a series including Alfred Ashford. Apologies guys, fixed!

Nicholai's mind was on a downward trajectory. 

He knew that, though the part of his brain that was still dedicated to independent, critical thought had become immobilised by the part which demanded he meet his body's drug-induced biological needs. It shrunk, day by day, fuck by fuck. When it did surface to scream at him, it would angrily recount all the abuses he'd accepted without protest in its absence, playing films behind his eyes of the cum-drunk escapades he'd endured with spread legs and a dopey grin.

 _'Look at you!'_ It said, _'Look what they've done to you!'_

The bursts of consciousness never lasted long, pulled beneath the depths of lust almost as fast as they'd emerged. And they were getting shorter and shorter. Sometimes, they told him they'd be gone completely, soon enough. 

But he didn't care. He couldn't. 

The moment his body began to tickle and his muscles began to twitch, he became a slave to the desire to satisfy himself. And now, it was easier than ever.

Since Albert had come to him last, he hadn't been chained up again, and his cell had been left open. His hands were constantly on his aching, bruising cock. The toys Albert had brought him weren't taken away or hidden anymore, and he fucked himself with them until he was so exhausted he couldn't help but slip into sleep. Sometimes he'd wake up with the monstrous dildos still inside of him, and he'd be so overwhelmed with that he'd orgasm within seconds of his eyes opening, before even becoming aware of why. 

His orgasms were mostly dry, now. Despite the changes his body had undergone, his prostate was unable to keep up with the amount of gut-wrenching, muscle quaking vibrations that echoed through his hips after the lightest of sensations. The female scientists and staff found that element of his condition particularly useful, being able to ride him raw, confident they'd not get pregnant. 

And while he loved any use of his body, even by women -- nothing satisfied him more than being _stuffed_. 

Albert told him the men were forbidden from using his hole until he'd been impregnated by a Tyrant again, wanting to avoid a potentially human conception. But the men still came and indulged him with their fists and arms, making games of how far they could reach into his guts. They'd watch him play with his toys and masturbate, cumming on his face and body. They'd still use his throat, and they'd all taken a liking to sucking his nipples of the milk he produced.

Nothing made Nicholai happier than two mouths on his bosom, tongues swirling around the puffy, peachy flesh, slurping him up. He'd lay in bed contently, two guards lapping at his nipples, suckling and stretching them while another was between his legs, fisting him to orgasm. He didn't even have words to describe how deliriously calm he felt in those moments.

And then there was Albert himself. 

The older man never used him like the others did. At most, he'd pump him of a portion's worth of milk like he were a human vending machine and drink it. He said it was highly nutritious and good for the body. Nicholai only wished he'd drink it straight from him, and had begged him to on multiple occasions, but the blond always declined. 

Albert liked to take pictures. He'd instruct him how to pose and what to do. He'd film him on video cameras and ask him questions Nicholai always answered without hesitation under promise of new, bigger toys to play with.

" _You like me, don't you, Nicholai?"_

_"Yes, Sir!"_

_"I treat you well?"_

_"Y-yes, Sir!"_

But sometimes, he'd ask him some questions he struggled with.

_"Do you like me more than Sergei?"_

The part of Nicholai's brain that was often hidden away sometimes sparked to life, then. He'd furrow his brow as he tried to figure out what his brain was telling him to say, a part of him so assured he liked Sergei. That Sergei was important to him. That Sergei was a good man -- though he wasn't sure why he thought that. He couldn't remember much of anything that happened before he was bred the first time anymore.

" _I-I don't know, Sir..."_

 _"Sergei was the one who chained you down... who left you hungry..."_ Albert would mew with a pout, _"Surely you didn't like being chained down or denied cock... did you, Nicholai?"_

_"No... No I didn't like that, Sir."_

_~_

Nicholai's heart would skip a beat when he saw Albert sauntering down the hall towards him.

Though he had impaled himself on the largest toy he'd been given -- one that reached up into his belly and scratched into his abdominal wall -- and couldn't stop bouncing on the ribbed, rubber phallus, he still smiled and purred excitedly when Albert slipped into his cell.

"H-hello!" He smiled, hips still twisting and rocking on the massive cock, speaking and staring as though nothing were strange.

"Good morning, little cow!" Albert said softly. He was holding a blue binder close to his chest, "I've got some good news... your blood tests came back. Your body is ready to conceive again after that dreadful miscarriage."

"Oh..." Nicholai's smile turned to a wide grin, "I don't remember... miscarriage..."

"It's for the best, really." Albert droned, "It wouldn't have been useful anyway."

Albert smirked when Nicholai was suddenly wrought with an orgasm, bending forward, mouth agape, and chest heaving. The blond waited until the overwhelming sensation passed, and Nicholai was able to look back up at him again, a dopey, hazy look in his jade eyes. He carefully settled on the best next to where Nicholai was kneeling, perched over his toy. 

"You've been such a good boy for us, little cow." Albert set the binder down on his lap, "I thought I would reward you."

He opened the binder slowly, flipping a few pages until the paper was set aside and a few layers of plastic pockets revealed themselves. Each contained a polaroid photo with various numbers and letters written beneath it. Nicholai didn't know what they meant, but what was being shown in the pictures was clear as day.

Cocks. Tyrant cocks.

"This is our quick reference catalogue, where we keep some basic details on our B.O.Ws and their anatomical proportions. Head size, arm length, height, weight, and..." He tapped some of the photos, "... reproductive organs."

Nicholai moaned softly, suddenly stopping his self-imposed ministrations and leaning down slightly to look closer at the rows of pictures. 

"I thought -- why not let our dear Nicholai choose who will father next? Hmm?" Albert smirked, "It makes no difference to the program which of the T-models you choose as they're all on the same b--"

"This one!" Nicholai didn't even allow Albert to finish, the Russian's hand darting to prod at one of the photos.

Albert nodded slowly, utterly unsurprised by the selection. It had been the one he'd been hoping for. The one he knew Nicholai would pick. The one that hadn't been slated for introduction to the program.

The creature's organ was far larger than any of the others on the page by a significant margin. An incredible anaconda-like phallus snaked from its hairless body, hanging between his knees, if not slightly lower. It was almost half as thick as its leg and naturally ribbed, with blunted nodules adorning its glans like a perverse crown.

"That's the T-078." He purred innocently, "Are you sure? It's a bit... big..."

Nicholai had resumed his bouncing on the dildo, clearly worked up by the sight of the cock.

"Yes-yes! Yes, t-that one!"

"Hmm..." Albert tapped his finger against his cheek as though in deep consideration, "It might be a bit too much for you. They are known to rut for hours without pause."

"N-no.. n-nyes.. ye-es pl-please, that one..." Nicholai was panting, slamming his hips down onto the bed, burying his toy as deeply as he could, clearly overwhelmingly aroused at the thought. One of his hands floated up to his nipple and began working the tender flesh roughly.

"I mean... if you insist." Albert tsk‘d, "This was meant to be your choice, after all."

"Mmm-mhmmm." Nicholai's tongue lulled from his lips, "Mm-mmy ch-choice..."

"Alright! I shall book a date." He smiled, closing the binder and standing just as another orgasm beat through Nicholai's body.

"You enjoy your day, little cow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What even is going on in this story. Why did I do this. This nutty nonsense fake science stuff isn't even my style but hot dog did I want to try it out and it is fun isn't it >_>


	9. Breeding Day II, Part I

On his second breeding day since arriving to the laboratory, Nicholai was given yet another injection.

"This isn't anything untoward, Nicholai, don't worry." Albert purred as he stuck his arm with the thin, long needle, "This is just a muscle relaxant. You'll need it."

Nicholai hadn't much cared what was in the needle, he had been vibrating with excitement since Albert had come earlier in the day to tell him he was going to be bred. Once he was given the injection, however, he rapidly felt his body laze into a lull, all of his haywire desire still present but his limbs beginning to become overwhelmingly heavy. 

He felt hands on him, manipulating him, moving and prodding him. He felt confused at first, groaning meekly. But Albert's voice immediately cut through the haze and explained what was happening in a calm, soothing tone.

"They're just putting you in a wheelchair, little cow." He said, "You can't walk like this."

"O-oh..."

Fluorescent lights ebbed and flowed overhead as Nicholai was wheeled down the hall. He couldn't hold his head up long enough to look straight in front of him, instead staring up at the bright flashes above. They looked magical.

Albert was speaking to him in that same, soothing tone as he walked alongside, the blond's hand on his shoulder. It was comforting. Nicholai leaned into the touch, head lulling against the older man's wrist gently.

"W-will... I... p-pregna-t?" He attempted a question, jaw feeling as heavy as the rest of him.

"Yes." Albert smiled, "Just two more and your contract is all done!"

"O-oh... Ok-kay..."

There was a loud _beep_ as a keycard was scanned, and a set of hydraulic doors opened with a _hiss_. 

Though he had a hard time remembering his own name sometimes, he remembered the smell of the room they entered clearly. It was where he'd been first bred. It was louder in the room than he remembered, and he didn't quite know how to process all of the eyes looking down at him as he was wheeled in.

"L-lot... pe-peopl...e..." He murmured involuntarily, as though a better-functioning part of his brain was trying to speak through him.

"Just some staff. To keep you safe!" Albert chirped.

"O-oh..." He accepted the answer quickly.

He felt his body being lifted and lowered, and cold, cold metal pressing into his back shortly after. Albert's face came into focus for him, the older man leaning and peering down at him with a smile. 

His limbs were being pulled in different directions, he knew. He could feel his thighs being spread wider and wider.

"I think you're going to enjoy tonight, dear heart."

After a moment, he couldn't move his arms or legs anymore -- not even an inch, though he didn't have much of a desire to.

"So will we."

~

Sergei was furious.

The Colonel hadn't been allowed to return to the laboratory since Lord Spencer had turned over the reigns of the program to Albert Wesker.

He'd felt anxious, unable to check in on his junior over the weeks that followed the board meeting, but Lord Spencer assured him things would be fine, and that he was simply allowing his emotional bond with Nicholai to cloud his judgement. Ever-reverent of the older man's words, he abdicated gracefully, even going so far as to try and convince himself that was all it was -- needless worry. That he was being overly protective. That he was letting his emotions get in the way.

The program was important, after all. So important. That's why he had been so proud to offer Nicholai up for it.

But standing in the room where the breeding was to take place, having been granted an allowance to witness the primal ritual, all of his fears and anxieties were immediately vindicated.

The room was crowded with scientists and staff -- most of whom had no business being there. They were joking with each other, casually chatting, drinking coffee -- some had recorders and cameras. They surrounded the table where Nicholai was being strapped down, shuffling barely a few feet from the edge. Some were even touching and prodding him like he were an animal at a zoo, laughing.

It was far from the sterile, utilitarian environment the first breeding had been. 

Sergei waded through the crowd, spotting Albert hovering over Nicholai's body, smiling down at him affectionately. Sergei almost completely ignored his junior, striding up to the younger man with a snarl.

"This is unscientific." Sergei hissed at Albert, not bothering to put on the mask of professionally he usually attempted to adorn, "This is **_pornography_**."

Albert acted shocked, one of his hands clutching at his chest as his brow furrowed over his glasses, "How dare you? I'm the one with the PhD, Sergei, remember that."

"I don't give a **_fuck_** about your PhD!" Sergei spat, drawing the attention of a few other staff as his voice continued to rise, "This is not what is supposed to be happening!"

Albert smirked, "If I recall correctly... the last time _you_ decided what was _supposed_ to be happening, your junior was left a brain-dead slut."

"About that..." Sergei didn't waiver, practically growling, "Someone informed me they spotted _you_ in the medication synthesis room that day the injection was being formulated."

"Oh, a virologist in a laboratory. How strange." Albert said flatly, rolling his eyes behind his glasses.

"Don't play **_fucking_** dumb."

"Speaking of fucking dumb..." Albert giggled, ignoring the accusation as he noticed the Tyrant being led into the room by a convoy of guards. Sergei turned to where Albert was now staring intently, his eyes widening.

The beast was incredible, drawing everyone's attention immediately. People scrambled to move further away from its path as it was walked towards the table where Nicholai was laying in wait. While the Tyrant had been programmed for neutrality towards Umbrella staff, it was a menacing demon, and radiated aggression from every pore. Pictures were being snapped. Amused, hushed whispers being exchanged on the damage the creature was going to do. How big it was. How terrifying.

Sergei was utterly horrified. 

"That is a T-078." He said quietly, directing his attention to Albert once more, "That was **_not_** a selection for the progra--"

"Nicholai picked it out himself!" Albert chirped innocently, "He asked for it... Didn't you, Nicky?" The blond peered down at Nicholai, setting a hand on his belly and rubbing gently.

"Nmnn... mm...mhmm.." Nicholai nodded dopily, glassy jade-eyes flicking up towards Sergei, registering his presence for the first time, "O-oh, S... Ser...gei..."

Sergei ignored the hazy acknowledgement, still laser-focused on Albert.

"The T-078 was designed for breeding with **_other Tyrants_**." He was huffing deep, sharp breaths through his nose, "It cannot-- It is-- It is-- It is too large for a human! That's why it wasn't selected for t--"

Albert sighed loudly, interrupting the older man's tirade with a nonchalant wave of his hand, "Once again, Sergei, I am the scientist. Not you."

As the Tyrant was moved into place at the end of the table, Albert turned to address the room, clapping his hands a few times loudly. 

"Who had the betting pool?" He said. Sergei's jaw instantaneously dropped in outrage.

"Jones!" A voice in the noisy crowd called out, prompting the subject to respond.

"What'd you want, Al?" 

"Put two weeks vacation hours on one-hundred orgasms." Albert offered casually. 

"Done!"

" ** _Scientist my ass_**!" Sergei screamed, but his bellow of indignity was curtly ignored by the blond, who simply waded through the crowd away from him, a middle finger cast over his shoulder.


	10. Breeding Day II, Part 2

Sergei leaned down over his junior, guilt welling up in his chest as he tried to look into the younger man's lulling eyes.

The once-powerful, striking jade that would wordlessly take on anyone and anything was dulled, broken. It hurt Sergei to see Nicholai like this, and it was pure torture to know it was his own doing. He had spent more than one day enveloped in his own thoughts, hating himself for having surrendered Nicholai to the program. He had felt so righteous at first, so correct and assured he was doing the best for the company -- now, he felt nothing but pain. 

"I-- I thought this was for the best..." He whispered, "I thought you would... survive, overcome, as you always did. I thought -- even if you hated me at first, you would understand, eventually. This was so important... so important."

His hand traveled to Nicholai's clammy forehead, stroking the hair there with a gentle thumb, "It was just supposed to be two years... and then, you would have had enough to live for the rest of your life. No more merc jobs."

"I will never forgive myself for this, _Kolya_." He said sincerely, "I am so sorry."

He glanced down Nicholai's belly to look between legs where an attendant was applying some lubricant dutifully. The attendant stopped for a moment and turned to look behind him at the Tyrant, which was having its erection unsheathed with the use of electrical pulse pads affixed to its lower belly. He cleared his throat, turning and immediately applying significantly more of the petroleum jelly, effectively squeezing the entire tube out onto Nicholai's entrance.

Nicholai was mewling softly at the light touch, breathy moans already beginning to escape him.

For an obscene moment, Sergei was glad his mind was mostly gone.

~

Albert sauntered back over to the table when the orderlies gave the signal indicating the beast was ready. He'd grabbed a coffee in the minutes he'd been away, and the casualness through which he was acting clearly perturbed Sergei to an unspeakable degree. 

He loved it.

Ignoring Sergei completely and callously interrupting the tender moment he had been trying to share with the younger man, Albert leaned over Nicholai once more, grinning widely.

"Your beloved is ready, dear heart. Are you?"

Nicholai groaned incoherently.

"Good!" He grinned. But the fake pleasantries immediately dropped away when he looked up towards Sergei, smile falling to flat-lipped condescension, "Are we done here, Colonel? Or do I have to speak to _Lord Spencer_?"

Sergei snarled, but backed away from the table slowly, crossing his arms tightly around his chest and standing amongst the others. 

Albert smirked victoriously, eyes flicking behind his dark glasses to catch a glimpse of the Tyrant. It was fully erect now, its ghastly organ hanging heavily between its legs. It seemed even larger than in the catalogue photo -- thick as a strong man's wrist around, and stretching a conservative estimate 20 inches, perhaps longer. It was veiny and ribbed, the texture of the flesh clearly visible down the long shaft. At the head, a crown of blunted nodules, ones that Albert knew would swell to sort of knot to keep its mate incapacitated during orgasm.

People in the crowd were already aghast at the sight, gaped mouths and cocked eyebrows littering the field of spectators. Some had already pulled out their phones to snap photos, incredulous at the sight of this model's erection. While most of the Tyrants had larger-than-average members, most were still firmly within the humanoid territory -- big, but not so big as to be unholy.

The T-078 was a distinct exception. Murmurs in the crowd wondered how Nicholai could possibly accept it and survive.

The beat was beginning to huff loudly, clearly worked up into a frenzy of arousal by the electromagnetic pulses that had been administered to trigger its bio-reproductive system. 

An administrator at the end of the table looked to Albert for confirmation, waiting for the blond to nod curtly and move away from the table before using a thickly gloved hand and tool to lift the organ slightly, letting the head just barely brush Nicholai's entrance so as to prompt it to take over.

The moment the Tyrant felt the moist, warm flesh come into contact with its arousal, it seemed to snap to awareness. The administrator immediately darted away, rushing to the sidelines nervously. 

The creature suddenly stared down at the body that had been presented before it; white, hollow eyes assessing the offering closely.

The little mews and groans escaping Nicholai's lips seemed to prompt its curiosity. The beast leaned down and sniffed through its human-like nose. 

_"Food? Danger?"_ Its primitive brain tried to process it, an alien click clucking from its chest as the scent of Nicholai's breeding hormones tickled its mind.

 _"Mate_. _Mate. Mine."_

In an instant, its massive hands were grabbing at Nicholai's spread thighs, squeezing them tightly. Its palms so huge and fingers so long, they almost wrapped around the full thickness.

Nicholai's thighs had become a bit flabbier in recent months, muscles softening as a result of no exercise and little movement. The Tyrant's long digits pressed into the fatty flesh, almost bruising it on contact. 

It wasted no time and had no consideration -- and with a mighty thrust of its powerful body, it fully sheathed itself, hips knocking into Nicholai roughly. There was no internal resistance -- nothing in Nicholai's body was strong enough to resist or combat the incredibly swift movement.

~

Nicholai's eyes shot open, lips parting in a silent scream as a white-hot snap of _something_ burst like fireworks in his skull. 

Gasps and incredulous giggles behind palms filled the room, otherwise silent. Though all had been anticipating the act, none had expected the initial intrusion would be so quick and unceremonious. Everyone stared in disbelief at the snake-like bulge that was raised across almost the entire length of Nicholai's abdomen.

_"Holy fucking shit..."_

_"That's amazing."_

_"Is he dead? Why isn't he saying anything?"_

_"How the fuck did it all fit in there?"_

The creature wasn't making any noise, hips twitching slightly as it adjusted itself in the warm hole, nor was Nicholai, whose drug-addled brain was barely able to process the impossible cacophony of sensations that had just erupted through every nerve in his body.

A trickle of drool had begun to slip down Nicholai's cheek, leaking from the corner of his gaped mouth. He hadn't blinked, breathed, or moved, pupils fully contracted despite the dimness of the room. Above him, the Tyrant was still adjusting, curiously analysing the meat-sock it was stuffed into. It liked how warm it was, how tight and welcoming.

Jaggedly, Nicholai's head began to lift from the table, a ragged gasp escaping him as though he hadn't breathed in the almost full minute that had passed since the penetration. He looked down his body at the creature, who was staring back at him through its empty eyes.

His head fell back, dropping back to the table heavily. 

A familiar roiling in his belly clenched and cramped at every muscle in his body, his prostate completely crushed by the incredible width of the penetration. A sob heaved through him as a rough, random orgasm spewed from his cock. A sound that was somewhere between a moan and blood-curdling gurgle of agony belted from his lungs.

Immediately, the room erupted in cheers and claps of entertained delight, like they were watching a spectator sport and the athlete had just passed some insurmountable hurdle.

The mood in the room quickly lightened, giddy laughs and casual conversation returning, phones and cameras snapping away at the sight as they all waited for the Tyrant to make its next move, the creature having been relatively still since the initial puncturing. 

~

Nicholai felt every muscle in his body quivering. 

Though he could hear loud noises surrounding him, his mind was blank but for the feeling of the cock withdrawing from the deep contours of his body it had stuffed.

He knew he was whimpering, sniffling, gasping, but he felt disassociated from it all. As though he were witnessing it from the inside. All he could pay focus to was the cock -- the way it slid against his innards, bumps scraping at his walls as it was pulled back, agonisingly slowly.

An anxious part of his hazy mind began worrying if it was going to leave his body. He could feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes at the thought alone, the idea of being empty distressing him as it always did. He knew he didn't want it to leave -- he liked it. He loved it.

Fortunately, his concern was short lived. 

All of the air was knocked from his lungs as the beast thrust forward and buried itself to the hilt again.

And then it did it again. And again. And _again,_ beating out a steady rhythm.

The stretch was incredible. Nicholai could feel the numbing burn of being stretched open completely, every piece of tissue in his body forced open to accommodate the insertion. A lusty, half-formed thought offered itself to wishing he wasn't bound so he could reach and feel just how open he was. 

The muscles in his body cramped again. Another orgasm, but this one dry, his wrecked prostate unable to produce more sperm to weakly sputter from his barely-erect organ.

Nicholai could hear the sounds in the room get louder with every thrust spearing his guts. He didn't have the strength to look around him, but he knew they were happy sounds. Whoever was making them was happy for him! He felt oddly proud, like he did when Albert called him a _good boy._ Though he didn't know what he was meant to be proud of.

He didn't realise the cock was bulging up against his stomach with every thrust, putting on a perverse puppet show for the crowd surrounding him. 

~

Albert had just finished harping at John Spitzer, another virologist, for not counting Nicholai's dry orgasms in his betting tally when Nicholai had yet another.

"They count, John." He said, supported by a small gang of others who had placed higher bets on the number Nicholai was to have throughout the course of the impregnation. 

"Yeah, but he isn't _cumming-cumming_." John shrugged, speaking nonchalantly as though he were talking about a greyhound.

"He would if he could. They count!"

John conceded with a grin, marking down a few more tics than he had on his sheet.

"How long can these things go for?" The younger man asked Albert, brown eyebrow cocked.

"Three. Four. Five hours." Albert shrugged, amused at the question, "They are built for endurance."

Another laboratory technician overheard the comment and groaned loudly, "Man, I gotta pick my kid up from ballet. I can't stay for five hours."

"I'll hold your bet." John assured simply.

Albert shuffled away from the other men, moving a bit closer to the table, coffee mug in hand. He manoeuvred around a few bodies who were flanking Nicholai as closely as they safely could, cameras and phones held up to him and recording intently. They all seemed amused by something, and Albert was curious as to what it was.

Immediately, the blond spotted it, a devious grin pulling at his lips.

Milk. Lots of it. It flowed from Nicholai's rosy nipples like a tap had been switched on. The rough, deep penetration was causing pressure to build up in his muscles, which were forcing the cream out as his pectorals twitched and cramped with every thrust and orgasm he endured. Albert watched for a moment with the others, amused and entertained by the sight of Nicholai's body coming fully unfurled.

The spectators cheered loudly when the Tyrant seemed to finally take notice of the discharge. It paused mid-thrust, leaning down and planting a tepid lick against one of Nicholai's nipples, seemingly satisfied with the taste of the hormone-rich milk and greedily taking another drink.

It began to thrust again, but let its rough, snake-like tongue flick and circle the nipple, seeking more. The sensation of being suckled while fucked prompted a loud scream of pleasure from the bound man, delighting the onlookers who encouraged him with perverse affirmations.

_"He's like a sow, isn't he?"_

_"That thing is going to suck him dry."_

_"I wonder if breastmilk is healthy for these things..."_

Albert wasn't afraid of the Tyrant, knowing the creature was effectively incapacitated so long as it was focused on breeding, so slipped a bit closer to the table.

The expression on Nicholai's face was a perfect compliment to his state -- flushed lips parted, drool and foam gurgling from the corners of his mouth, eyes lulling behind fluttering lids. He was utterly lost in himself. Barely sentient. 

"Oh, dear heart." Albert pouted, "Look at what has become of you, hmm? How unfortunate." 

He took a quick glance around the room, satisfied when he realised that Sergei was gone.

The man had left, fled, abandoned his post.

 _Retreated_.

Albert grinned widely, feeling totally pleased with himself.

"To the victor go the spoils, Colonel..."


	11. Perfect

The breeding had lasted long than anyone would have anticipated or liked, though, despite its marathon four-hour long duration, Albert still lost his bet.

Nicholai had only had _92_ orgasms, falling short of the 100 he'd waged on. But he'd shrugged off his loss, still feeling perfectly victorious in light of Sergei's abandonment of his post. 

The room was almost empty by the time the T-078's knot began to deflate, the creature having been relatively still and silent for the duration of its incredible orgasm. It was a utilitarian creature, unloading buckets of cum into the willing host with a rather blank stoicism that betrayed the action. Its only concern was the successful impregnation of its mate, nothing more. As the Tyrant withdrew, Albert glanced around and realised he was the only one remaining other than the assistants needed to return the Tyrant to its housing.

Albert strode over to the table, a smile plastered on his smug face. 

"How are you feeling, little cow?" The blond asked, reaching out to stroke at the obvious, watery bulge that had developed in Nicholai's stomach.

There wasn't any response, which concerned Albert at first. But after a moment of silence, the younger man's quiet, jagged breaths assured Albert he was alive. 

He did a slow walk-around of the table, assessing Nicholai intently from all angles. When he came to the flagship sight between the man's legs, he his smile turned to a quick grimace of half-amusement, half-disgust. Nicholai was utterly gaped, his hole seemingly unable to close and spewing globs of thick, white cum. Albert made sure to take a picture.

"I've decided on something..." Albert said, speaking to the barely-conscious body as though it were aware of his presence, "I was feeling quite sad at the idea of you going back to your crappy cage, all alone. That's no place for a mother to be, and you've been there for too long as it is..."

Nicholai gurgled, hiccuping a bit of cum-laced drool from the corner of his lip.

"I think it would be best for you to stay with your _husband_ for a few months." He smiled, continuing chipperly, "You're at no risk, don't worry. Biologically, he's repelled from harming a mate. We can collect some data on Tyrant mating. He can take care of your base needs, too! And I'm sure being in his keep will help the foetus take."

With a flick of his finger, Albert instructed the attendants to take Nicholai. They quickly scrambled to unbuckle his restraints, revealing the bruised, chaffed skin beneath. Albert quickly took another picture on his cellphone as the orderlies were sorting out how to move the younger man into the waiting wheelchair -- his limbs effectively jelly. 

"Should we... take him to... get cleaned first, Sir?" One of them asked, wrangling the Russian's limbs and trying to lift him.

"No." 

~

The Tyrant's housing was a clear-walled room in the lowest floor of the laboratory, the confines made of an unbreakable material that looked like glass from the outside. Normally, the housing would be empty but for the Tyrant itself, the beasts normally staying stagnant like marble statues until activated by some means. Food would be tossed in occasionally, animal carcasses that trained the beasts for the taste of mammal blood. The Tyrant would ravage the meat when it was given it, leaving pools of blood and bone all over the floor. 

Upon Nicholai's arrival, the housing wasn't made any tidier, but a small cot was arranged with some blankets and pillows. He had been tossed on the cot unceremoniously, the attendants not even bothering to tuck him in or cover him up.

The Russian didn't begin to stir for days. 

His body so weak, not even the white-haze of pleasure and need was able to cut through the utter depletion of every small resource he had, mentally and physically.

Albert personally administered his daily dose of nutritional supplement -- the same shot to his thigh he'd been receiving since he arrived. He hadn't eaten solid food for more than half a year -- his body relegated for sexual use only since his hormones went haywire.

When Nicholai's eyelids finally fluttered open, he was met with glaring fluorescent lights baring down upon him harshly. 

He whimpered and winced, unsuccessfully trying to move. But every action was an unsuccessful one.

He turned his gaze, assessing his novel surroundings. 

The room was white, not baby blue. It was cold, not warm. The poorly-framed photo of the bunny rabbit he normally caught in the far corner was not there.

He knew he was not in his cell.

"Gnnh...." He groaned incoherently, still trying to fish his sight around the room.

Suddenly, he caught it. The ghastly, dark form on the other side, not far from him. The Tyrant.

He wasn't scared of it. A part of him told him he loved it. Love -- loved it. He didn't know what love meant. But he loved it all the same.

"O-oh...." He mewled, an involuntary, tepid smile pulling his lips away from his teeth as though he were drunk, "H-ell-ooo...."

~

The Tyrant wasn't sure why a tiny thing had been left in its room.

So small and squeamish. It had almost mistaken it for a feeding carcass the first few days.

It didn't like this other thing. It wanted to be alone! But the moment it approached the tiny thing, it became confused. A strange smell would accost it. One it did not recognise.

It would sniff at the tiny thing's belly, and whatever scent was there would instantly calm it. So it would retreat to the other side of the room, blank-minded until the next meal was tossed in.

Tiny thing began to squirm on the fourth or fifth darkness, light switching on to illuminate how it was twisting and twitching. It made a noise that started the Tyrant, and it could see tiny thing was staring. Why were it's teeth bared? It did not seem to want to be threatening. It still lay with its belly exposed, vulnerable.

It was not dangerous. it was trying to submit.

The Tyrant cautiously slipped closer to the tiny thing, white eyes scanning the form curiously. 

It made clicks and grunts it knew would alert the tiny thing of its presence, warning it. But the tiny thing seemed unconcerned.

Again, the Tyrant's nose began to tickle with that strange, sweet scent. As it moved closer, it continued to sniff the air until its nose was led straight down onto the tiny thing. It inhaled deeply, beginning to sniff different pieces.

Its belly smelled sweet. 

So did its breasts.

In-between its legs smelled the sweetest.

Finally, the Tyrant caught traces of itself on the tiny thing's body, and the purpose of the tiny thing became clear.

 _'Mate! Mate! Mine! Mate!!_ ' The Tyrant thought excitedly in its primitive brain, realising the smell emanating from the small form was one of its own offspring. The tiny thing would reproduce for it.

What a good tiny thing it was.

Good, friendly tiny thing. Not a threat. Good.

~

Albert was amused by the reaction of the Tyrant to Nicholai's introduction to its housing.

The creature had become extremely protective, shrouding the human in its own, massive body. It would snarl at scientists passing outside the housing, clearly claiming Nicholai as its own. 

Sometimes Albert would just sit outside of the housing on a metal folding chair, drinking coffee and observing intently from a cover of shadows.

The Tyrant liked to incessantly lick at Nicholai, running its long, snake-like tongue over his pale, clammy skin.

Sometimes, encouraged by Nicholai's tender prodding, it would breastfeed -- liplessly sucking and chomping at Nicholai's swelling nipples, clearly enjoying the taste of the milk it was able to draw. Nicholai enjoyed it too, the Russian's head tossing back into his pillow, eyes rolling and lips parting to belt sounds that were stifled by the thick glass walls of the housing. 

It was then that Nicholai would usually try to prompt the creature for sex, his hands running across the beast's muscular flesh before dipping between its legs and stroking its tremendous balls. Tyrants were difficult to provoke into arousal, normally requiring chemical or electroconvulsive means to route blood to where it was meant to go -- but seemingly having claimed Nicholai as a mate, the beast was more tolerant of the attempts, though not immediately reciprocal. 

Albert would smirk and lick his lips as he watched the perverse scenes unfold. It was obscene, a human practically _begging_ a Tyrant for a fuck. It was utterly filthy to see Nicholai squirm and wriggle against the beast's body, trying his best to be a simulacrum of _seductive_. He'd spread his legs and wrap them around the Tyrant's waist, milking his nipples roughly or masturbating while he frotted hungrily. 

Eventually, the creature began to respond. Albert had instantly started laughing the day he walked into the housing floor and saw Nicholai getting turned inside out by by the Tyrant -- half-dropped off the bed, face contorted in overwhelming pleasure, drooling all over himself. The beast was thrusting so hard Nicholai was practically being scrubbed across the floor.

Albert made sure to take pictures.

~

Nicholai began to show much faster than he had before. 

By the second month, his stomach was as large as it had been by the sixth and final month of his first pregnancy. Albert ordered tests, suspecting, with no degree of hidden excitement, that the former soldier might be carrying twins.

He was right.

It was almost a celebratory moment. Nicholai had provided the virologists with so much novel data -- and now, the first twin Tyrant foetuses. The implications were massive, scientifically. But some of the researchers expressed concerns about the viability of the term, citing Nicholai's very human anatomy.

Albert wasn't worried -- In fact, it didn't matter to him at all. One more nail in Sergei's coffin, as far as he were concerned. While he hoped Nicholai would survive, if only so that the fun would continue, his death would have been inconsequential in the scheme of things.

Nicholai had to be removed from the Tyrant housing following the news, worries growing about the potential for a miscarriage if he continued to take a 20-inch cock in the guts multiple times per day. Despite Albert explaining to the younger man about the potential issue, Nicholai still cried and begged to stay. His sex-dumbed mind had returned in full-force since his last breeding, and it was amplified significantly by his pregnancy. He even said he loved the creature, mind unable to translate his desperate physical needs as anything but love. Albert told him it was just hormones while suppressing a laugh. 

He was returned to his own cell, terribly upset further by the fact his toys had been removed. He only calmed when Albert told him he'd be allowed _visits_ again from his _human friends._

"I'll even try to get Sergei to come and visit!" Albert purred, "Wouldn't you like that? Your old comrade Ser--"

"I don't like him." Nicholai shook his head, "He doesn't... help me."

"Oh?" Albert tried his best to convey surprise, but was internally cackling. 

Nicholai nodded, "I-- don't know why he-- w-won't... help me."

_Help._

The blond looked into Nicholai's jade eyes closely, knowing the odd word selection had been prompted by a jumbled mix of his fading conscious _and_ drugged states of thought. One part desiring the help of sex and pleasure while the other wanted _real_ help -- help to leave. Help to stop whatever tormented state of existence he'd fallen into. 

Albert was satisfied by it. It didn't matter whether it was the planted thoughts he'd slipped into Nicholai's mind throughout his captivity finally breaking through, or simply that his blocked consciousness had come to its own conclusion that Sergei hadn't done anything to save him. Both had the same consequences. 

Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are almost done torturing Nicholai, friends! Hope you have enjoyed the ride so far!


	12. Birthday Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: This is probably the worst chapter, content-wise, so please read all tags, especially the last few.

Albert would usually check in on Nicholai after lunch, and most of the day's tasks had been completed. 

He was never surprised to see a gathering of users and onlookers spending their break times with the former soldier, either using him or patiently waiting their turn to use him. He had no other function, as far as they had become convinced, and even the fact that he was part of the B.O.W program itself was a fact that began to escape many as the man's sexual service defined his days.

Today, Nicholai was getting stuffed roughly from both ends, even his hands were occupied by a cock in each. Every jerk and thrust caused his obscene belly to twitch and bounce, the rosy flesh of which had been scribbled on with dozens of mocking profanities and signatures.

_**WHORE** _

_**ROB T. WAS HERE** _

_**I AM A SOW** _

Some other scribbles indicated tally marks were being kept, while others were poorly-drawn cartoon-like characters of pigs and cocks.

One, large words written sloppily across his bosom, even looked like Nicholai had done it himself, likely under someone's instruction.

**_MORE PLEASE_ **

Albert sighed contently, shoving his hands in his pockets and leaning over the cum-covered form with a smirk, "Hello, little cow."

Nicholai's hazy eyes flicked down towards him, past the shaft of the cock in his throat. 

"How are you?" Albert asked, as though he were capable of answering. Gently, he reached down and stroked a few fingertips across Nicholai's belly, causing the younger man to shiver in response, "Almost time for you to pop, I think."

"They're already due..." A virologist behind him piped up, "Are we gonna' have to induce? Might not be good for them."

Albert shrugged, "Let's give him another few days. Maybe one of the boys can knock him into it."

"Yes, Sir."

~

Albert's challenge to the floor to be rougher with Nicholai hadn't been without purpose or reward. He had gambled it would help force the labour, and he had been right. The man's water had broken as he was being fisted for the fifth time the very next day, which was met with uproars of celebration from the onlookers... though the guard who had been elbow-deep in Nicholai's makeshift cunt at the time was less than pleased. 

Albert hadn't rushed to the cell after the news came in, nor did he instruct anyone to leave. Instead, he went to the laboratory to pick up something he'd prepared from the cold-storage, and then grabbed a coffee from the cafeteria. 

By the time he arrived, Nicholai was a clammy, panting mess. The crowd had grown from the usual rotation of staff on their break to a swarm of people curious to witness the birth of twin Tyrants. Albert almost had a difficult time wading through them all.

Unlike the last birth, where stoic, though amused, scientists had tried to keep the process utilitarian, Albert had no such concerns. All the better for if Sergei showed up.

He was delighted when he saw Nicholai masturbating, one hand working his cock while the other played rough fingers across his nipples. He looked as though he were in an excruciating amount of pleasure, face contorted in a flushed haze of desperation. Tears left wet streaks down his red cheeks, practically sizzling against the hot flesh.

"A-Al-berr-t..!" He groaned through pants, "I'm--" He cut off his own words as a loud moan pushed its way past the words.

"Yes. You're giving birth. Aren't you excited?"

"Mmnnn...." Nicholai shook his head slowly, rolling it against his sweat-dampened pillow, "I n-need... I w-want..."

Albert scoffed a chuckle, "Not until you're done, dear heart."

"B-but... bu-ut..."

With a sigh, Albert conceded, turning to address the others around him, "Who wants to assist our host with the birth?"

Immediately, a small cacophony of questions were launched at him by the excited men, all ready and willing to step in. Albert directed them towards the cot, giving them his blessing.

"Can he suck me off?"

"Of course. But do use some protection..." Albert drawled, snatching something from his pocket that he'd collected prior to his arrival and offering it to the guard casually. Naturally, he didn't mean protection for Nicholai. He meant it for the users of his body.

The guard excitedly grabbed the gelatinous mouthguard, turning to stuff it in Nicholai's mouth. The Russian made a peep of shock as he was roughly manhandled, but accepted the manipulation in his desperate state.

Once he'd positioned the soft rubber over the younger man's teeth, he immediately jumped up to the bed and straddled his skull. Dropping his hips down while he frantically unzipped his fly, he offered his cock to Nicholai, who immediately took it up into his mouth. Perverse sucks and slurps quickly followed, Nicholai seeming too pleased to have a pacifier to use. 

Another two brought themselves to the other end, fingers immediately slipping into Nicholai's leaking, gaping hole. The two men worked a few digits each inside, commenting on how warm and soft it felt inside of the former soldier. 

"Can we fuck him, Doc?"

"Not until the products are delivered safely."

"Damn."

Albert chuckled at the men's disappointment, setting a hand on Nicholai's belly, "Hopefully we can get this over with soon, and then you can do as you please." He rubbed the ink-stained flesh a few times gently, the permanent marker that had littered his body with obscene words and drawings becoming smeared under cum and sweat. 

And then, he pushed down firmly. The sensation caused Nicholai to yelp around the cock in his throat, his hands involuntarily darting to grab at Albert's.

"Now, now, little cow, we are just trying to help."

The men who had been fingering Nicholai smirked devilishly, setting their hands upon the younger man's belly and doing as Albert did, pushing down on the bloated bulge aggressively. Nicholai's muffled screams caused the guard in his throat to moan loudly, still rocking his hips into the wet mouth.

"Fuck, Doc... These were a good idea..." He breathed contently, "No teeth when the pig squeals!" 

Another voice in the hungry crowd piped up, "Finish up, Larry, some of us want a turn!"

"Yeah, yeah..."

Albert stepped back, a grin peeling at his lips.

More staff had stepped in to play with the incapacitated body, some pushing down on the belly, amused at the noises Nicholai would make when they did, while others tightly pulled and twisted his nipples, wasting his milk as it squirted impotently. Nicholai's hands clutched at jerked on the blanket beneath him, attracting the attention of others who decided to replace his grip on the soothing fabric with one on their cocks. 

It was an utterly unholy sight to bare witness to, every part of the birth completely saturated in sex and deviancy. The guard who had been using Nicholai's throat climaxed loudly, slowly removing himself and letting the next in line take his place. For a moment, during the transition, Albert caught the expression on Nicholai's cum-soaked face. He wished he'd had his camera out to take a picture.

It was only when he heard one of the men between Nicholai's legs speak up loudly that he was broken from his trance of enjoyment.

"Hey-- I think one's coming out!" 

Albert smirked, "Well, why don't you help him with it, then?"

The two there smiled at each other, slipping their fingers from Nicholai only to replace them with two of each, one taking each side of the hole that was gushing birthing fluid. They pulled firmly in opposite directions, stretching Nicholai open as widely as they were physically able to. The younger man responded by trying to buck his hips up and scream, but again, his attempts were stifled by cock and complete physical weakness. 

The infant Tyrant breached the spread ring of muscle slowly, a gloved scientist stepping in to clutch at it firmly and tug it the remainder of the way out. As it was pulled free, Nicholai orgasmed, his hips thrusting upwards as tendrils of cum spewed across his hips. The room erupted in cheers and laughs, some eyes wide in awe as they watched the creature be set into a waiting isolation pod, its umbilical cord rapidly cut and tied off. 

Albert peeked into the pod with curiosity. The newborn was much larger than the first had been, striking grey and blue flesh complimenting its white, empty eyes. It twitched and almost seemed to pulsate like a larval insect, the juice on its body glistening with every movement. 

"One down, one to go!"

~

Nicholai hadn't been given a break after the delivery of the second Tyrant. 

The crowd had grown, not dissipated, and rough hands explored his exhausted body incessantly. Cocks immediately stuffed their way into his hole, Albert watching two men double-penetrate his gaping, post-birth cunt at one point, the two still complaining of looseness. 

A marker had been distributed to write greeting messages across his softening belly and thighs, as though he were his own, perverse greeting card. Much of it was illegible above the smears of the previous text.

**_CONGRATS!! -- Level 4 Lab_ **

**_You did it! ❤_ **

**_NEW MOM_ **

Curious fists found their way into Nicholai's body whenever his hole was free, some curious about how his innards felt after carrying two, massive Tyrants for six months, while others simply wanted to see how deep they could reach. Nicholai passed out at one point, likely out of the sheer physical exertion he had been subjected to, and had never stirred throughout much of his abuse. Even so, the occasional, dry orgasm would twitch at his balls and clench his muscles.

It was many hours before Albert decided to send everyone away, growing tired of the ministrations and deciding the game had to come to an end.

All of it.

There was no better time.

Some pouted and whined, some thanked him for his _hospitality_ , and some made sure to take pictures before they departed, snapping souvenir-like selfies with the unconscious man.

It was only when the final plod of footsteps had faded fully into the distance that Albert addressed Nicholai's convulsing, leaking body. He first carefully removed the cum-soaked mouthguard from the younger man's lips, tossing the set to the floor casually. He then reached into his pocket and drew out a capped syringe -- one which had already been filled with an amber-coloured fluid. 

Albert turned one of Nicholai's arms over, prodding at the inner elbow to find a vein. Expertly, he poked the needle in, and squeezed the plunger until not a drop was left of the medicine inside.

He re-capped the needle and made sure to pocket it once again, stepping back from the bed with his head cocked in curiosity.

The effects were almost instantaneous, a gasping breath slipping through Nicholai's dry, chapped lips and the tendons in his neck clenching and dancing beneath the flesh. He lay, breathing getting heavier and heavier, grunts and groans jaggedly escaping his wrecked throat. 

And then his eyes opened.

Eyes that were no longer obscured by a haze of lust-drunk semi-consciousness.

"Welcome back, Nicholai."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chappie and then we are done! What a DISGUSTING mess this has been.
> 
> NOTE that the mouthguard idea was 100% ripped from the lovely misch3fbunni3, who makes incredible Wesker content. All credit to them!


	13. Dear Heart

Nicholai had spent four days in the infirmary.

He didn't speak, eat, or acknowledge a single other person who had slipped into his room to treat him -- nurses and doctors going completely ignored.

He didn't sleep, either, eyes blankly staring into a void of nothingness like he was casting his gaze into another world. In reality, he was staring directly into what was a two-way mirror, one which Albert had taken up residence behind during his off-hours. 

On the fifth day, Albert decided to finally enter the room, curious to test the theories he'd developed about the thoughts Nicholai could have developed while in his semi-conscious haze. He smiled when he slipped through the glass door, jovially greeting the younger man as he slowly strode up towards the edge of his bed.

"Hello, Nicholai..." He purred delicately, "My name is _Albert_..."

While he had been initially ignored, the slow enunciation of his name immediately prompted a response. Nicholai turned his head to look at the blond, lips parting slightly as his brain seemed to spark in some distant degree of realisation.

"Al...ber...t." He murmured softly, voice hoarse and jagged from his torn throat. He'd screamed for hours after he'd come out of his haze, eyes wide in horror and pain. His blood-curdling bellows of trauma were so loud and so long he was eventually sedated. 

Albert nodded, repeating his name again, "Albert. Do you remember me?"

"N.. no..." Nicholai rasped, Adams apple bobbing as he licked his lips, "M-may-be... I d-don't kn.. know..."

"We spent some time together during your unfortunate predicament." Albert kept the fake-smile plastered on his face, "I was trying to help you. I was the one who managed to create the medicine that removed you from your... state. I brought you here."

As though he recalled the false memories, Nicholai nodded. "O-oh y-yes... You... y-you help."

Satisfied with his clearly malleable state, Albert decided to push further. 

"Do you want me to call someone for you?" He asked, as though concerned about the younger man's wellbeing, "I can call someone... Perhaps _Sergei Vladimir_?" Again, Albert enunciated the name slowly, stretching out the syllables in an attempt to trigger the response he wanted.

Nicholai's eyes snapped wide, his brain sparking another thought.

"N-no! No!" He shook his head weakly, "N-no... No... he-help."

Albert's smile fell to a devilish smirk, but he doubted Nicholai knew the difference.

 _Perfect_.

~

Albert brought Nicholai to his condo in the luxe part of the uptown, guiding him carefully up the elevator and through the halls, holding him by the wrist as he led him to the spare bedroom.

He drew the blinds, casting darkness over the room, and tucked Nicholai into the thick, heavy duvet dotingly. He mewed and purred with concern, smoothing out the sheets with his palms and telling Nicholai to rest well. To sleep and recover. To have sweet dreams.

He'd pop in the room occasionally to leave a tray of food or a bottle of water, but when the sustenance was consistently neglected, he decided to take some of the comprehensive nutritional shots from the laboratory and offer those instead. They'd been the same ones Nicholai had been administered while incapacitated.

Nicholai accepted the injections quietly, after Albert assured him it was nothing more than concentrated macronutrients, vitamins, and saline. After the first few days, he'd automatically slip his arm from the blanket when he heard Albert enter.

It was almost a week before he stirred in any meaningful way, Albert surprised to find him sitting up one afternoon when he came to administer his shot. His mind had slowly been offering up more memories of what had happened, but not enough to understand more than the clear, heavy burden that he'd been violated.

"D-do y-you kn-ow what they did..?" He'd whined softly, "I rem-member things... I don't know i-if its real."

"I do."

"W-what... di-did they do.. to me..?" 

Albert sighed in mock-disgust, shaking his head and clucking his tongue, "Awful things. I tried to stop it..." He said, pulling his phone from his pocket, "I took some photos for evidence... I want them held accountable! If you wanted, I'm sure the police will be able to identi--"

"Let me s-see."

Albert was thankful for the darkness of the room, else the younger man might have seen his cheek twitch as he tried to contain a smile.

"Are you sure?"

"Y-yes."

He barely got through his first set by the time Nicholai couldn't take anymore. He was almost upset, feeling his photographic prowess had only improved with time. But between flics of light on the small screen, a catalogue perversely displaying his splayed, abused body and the many transformations it endured, the younger man practically collapsed into his arms. Tears of abject emotional agony bellowed from him, heaving at his chest and raggedly hiccuping through his drooling lips.

"T-they.. t-hey... th... they..."

"I know, dear heart, I know." Albert stroked Nicholai's hair softly, "They were _so_ awful. I am _so_ sorry."

After he'd been physically incapable of continuing to sob, he slept again for many more days. Albert didn't want to rush him.

In the meantime, he began to field calls from Sergei -- desperate, anguished calls as he searched for his junior, having been informed of the news dreadfully late. Albert's friends in the laboratory had conveniently forgotten to send the memo.

 _"Where is he?!"_ Sergei would scream, _"You know, don't you, you fucking bast--"_

 _"Have you checked the street? He's probably off selling his cunt somewhere and quite happier for it."_ Albert would drawl nonchalantly, while staring directly at the door behind which Nicholai slept.

Eventually the calls stopped coming. 

~

Though his pseudo-womb had been removed, Nicholai still had to be milked. 

The hormones that had caused his lactation were gradually cycling out of his blood, but they wouldn't dissipate fully for another week or two.

Albert didn't mention it, instead waiting until the younger man meekly called out to him one day and asked why his chest was cramping.

He hadn't taken the news well, sobbing and wining as Albert affixed pumps to his nipples -- one that he'd swiped from the very equipment that had been used on him while _incapacitated_. Albert was quite excited to have a replenishment of the delicious cream he'd often taken bottles of home for his own gastronomic use. He found it tasted much better in coffee than regular whitener. 

Albert stroked Nicholai's head softly as he was pumped, assuring him it would all pass. 

~

"Oh, Nicholai! Please come sit!" 

Albert beamed a smile when he saw the younger man standing in the doorframe of his room, arms wrapping themselves around his chest soothingly as he exited the room for the first time since he'd arrived. He was adorned in a set of Albert's pyjamas, grey sweatpants and a thin robe that slunk over his still-prominent, though softening belly.

Nicholai shakily walked over to the sitting area where Albert called him from, slowly settling down in an armchair across from the blond.

"Do you want some coffee? I just baked croissants."

The Russian shrugged, "I'm not really... hungry."

"I understand, but it would be best to get something other than nutritional shots in your system. It's been so long. Caffeine might be good for your metabolism."

Albert fixed the younger man a cup from the silver French press on the low table between them.

He hid his smile beneath a mask of paternalistic soothe as Nicholai poured some _cream_ from the tiny silver pot into his cup.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the two sipping their coffees and Albert casually reading the newspaper. He'd look up occasionally to see Nicholai scanning the condo, groggy eyes adjusting to the light and taking in the clean, white interior of the unit.

"Thank you..." Nicholai cleared his throat, breaking the calm nothingness that had peacefully passed between them, "For helping me."

Albert set his cup down with a smug chuckle. He reached out and pat a paternal palm against Nicholai's knee, "Oh, dear heart, no thanks are needed."

Nicholai shook his head, "W-without you... I don't know what could have... happened. You saved me."

The blond sighed contently, sitting back in his armchair. He watched Nicholai fiddle and fidget, awkwardly shifting about. The man's jade eyes flicked everywhere but towards him, as though he were deep in rapid thoughts.

"I don't know... what to do." He finally said, voice soft. "I feel like I've lost everything."

"What have you lost?"

Nicholai shrugged, "Everything." His voice cracked, "Everything is gone."

"If you mean your body, that can always be fixed with some training. You're young and strong yet."

Tears were beginning to well up in Nicholai's eyes, his nose crinkling and lip quivering, "S-Sergei didn't even... help me. He didn't ca-care... M-my mentor is g-gone."

Albert nodded slowly, "I was quite appalled with Colonel Vladimir's behaviour, yes... I suppose his loyalty to the company was more important than... well..." He let his mock-stern words fade away, the implication clear.

Nicholai hiccuped a sob, bringing his head down to rest in his hands. Albert let Nicholai cry for a few minutes before speaking.

"As I see it, you have two options..."

Jade peeked between shaky fingers at him, sniffling.

"I found the contract Vladimir had you sign... it was a commissioned task. Umbrella owes you money. Quite a bit of it, at that."

"I don't want their money!!" Nicholai spat immediately.

Albert continued, "Well, you _could_ take their cash and go and live your life however you'd like... Recover and retire from this mess in Borneo or some such lovely place."

Nicholai continued to shake his head, clearly sickened by the thought. 

"Or... You’d be welcomed to come and work for me."

"You?" Nicholai sniffled again, "But you’re with Umbrella..."

"Not for long." Albert said smugly, "I have my own issues with the company, my dear. It's turning into a circus thanks to pinheads like Vladimir at the helm... I've been planning on exiting for a while. I need some reliable men--"

"I don't even feel like a man anymore!" Nicholai whined.

"But you are. A soldier. And a good one at that. I can get you the resources you need to recover. I can pay you well. Your life will be back together in a flash."

Albert leaned forward, putting his hand on Nicholai's knee once more as a smile pulled at his lips, "What do you say?”

Nicholai licked his lips, silent as the offer began to weigh on him. For a moment, Albert regretted jumping into it so quickly, but pursed his lips and decided to press a bit harder. Just one more time.   
  
He sat back in his chair, folding his hands atop his lap neatly. He spoke clearly, firmly, letting a suggestion say what needed to be said. What he was sure would secure his grip 

“I have plans that will reduce Umbrella to rubble."

Jade eyes immediately flashed up at him.

”I’m in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE ARE DONE!
> 
> Jeez. Somehow this became the most popular story I ever wrote, which tells me you guys are GROSS. But then again, I wrote it *coughs* >_>
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed the ending, and please always feel free to leave me a request (don’t be embarrassed. Give me the gross stuff you want)! I have a few I am working through right now, but I always love to have ideas!!! 
> 
> <33333


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